


He Can't Read

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Pearly's Preklok Fics [12]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Ableism, Alcohol, Dyslexia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Self-Harm, Slurs, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9742031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: It was embarrassing. So he never told anyone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> there is nothing fun or happy about this fic, this is just magnus taking advantage of murderface's insecurities

It shouldn't have been as much of a secret as it was. But he refused to tell anyone. About a lot of things, really. His sexuality, his eating problems, his self-harm, his family ties, his emotional instability, his fucking drag persona Carmella Louise Parker, all of them nervous secrets packed deep within his overloaded psyche. But most prominently was the one that had debilitated his life since he was a little boy. A thing that made people believe he was stupid. William Murderface was insanely dyslexic.

It wasn't that he couldn't read. Sure, he could piece words together eventually. But it took so damn long and it was like every letter was switching places with every other one at the same time, in a way that made his brain incapable of producing words or sense or anything. First-grade level books sent his mind into a tizzy when he was age 6, and it only got worse from thereon out. Everyone thought he was stupid, and it was embarrassing and he hated it. He thought he wasn't stupid, but he must've been, if he was 17 years old, moved out of his house and still had trouble reading. Luckily, the gaudy texts on the front of albums got him a decent job at a record store, cleaning and organizing shit.

Then was the birth of Dethklok. Murderface was a bassist and preparing to take over the world with his sound. But with three new co-workers and a manager, he faced a problem, which was that sooner or later they'd notice how fucking dumb he was. So he'd keep it to himself, no big deal. Just not touch any of the documents. That'd be for Pickles, Skwisgaar or Magnus to do. (Murderface soon learned that Nathan was also dumb. Not even that he had reading issues, he was just a moron.)

It was perfect.

And best of all, nobody knew about his latent stupidity. Not even Magnus.

He was, at the very least, capable of staring at a book, pretending to read it. And he even knew how to do that just right. (If he turned the pages too fast, they'd know he was faking. If he did it too slow, they'd assume he was a complete retard when he wasn't even reading anything. Don't accidentally grab two pages at once. He also knew not to lick his fingers before flipping a page, that was just disgusting. Make sure to pick normal books. No weird erotica or anything like that. Shakespeare's "Macbeth" was usually his go-to since he still owned a copy and knew the whole story, but anything you'd see up front at a bookstore would work. Most of all, never read when it isn't necessary. He could slip up and make one of these mistakes at a time when he didn't even need to feign a reading session, and his whole image could come crumbling down within a second.) Contracts were also easy. He'd quickly "skim" over the pages before saying, "Schorry, thisch isch Nathan'sch deal. He ownsch thisch band." Though the sentence made Magnus visibly angry, Murderface was only there to save his own skin.

-

Liquor stores were awesome. Though it was a simple thing to get excited over, Murderface couldn't help being all smiles over all the amazing sales they had on the good stuff. Magnus would usually go there to buy tequila. (Sauza was their preferred brand, as it was cheap and tasted alright enough.)

"Hey Willy. See if you can find me some, uh... Cruzan Light."

"Huh? Usually you grab the liquor when we're here."

"Pickles told me to try Monkey Shoulder scotch, but if it isn't any good, I want backup drinks. So go get me some rum. Cruzan Light. Hurry up." Magnus began to shuffle to a different area of the store, leaving Murderface alone. 

Finding the rum section wasn't very hard, at least. After all, it was only three letters. But then every bottle began to jumble together into nonsense. Murderface was only fluent in what brand of tequila they normally bought. Even when it came to rum, usually they were just mixing shit together and got a Castillo Silver for it. He didn't fucking know what the label on Cruzan rum looked like! And he sure as hell couldn't see it, it was somewhere buried with all of the other rum brands, especially the ones that fucking started with 'c'. And he was too scared to ask someone -- what if it was right in front of him, and they called him an idiot? Fuck, he needed Magnus to read these! He needed that guy to survive!

"Hey, William."

His nerves froze up. Fuck, he was back after him already?! "The brand Pickles told me to grab was a little out of my range for today, so I got somethin' cheaper. Did you find my rum yet?"

"Uh... n-no."

"Dude, you've been standing here for like, ten minutes. Where is-- It's right in front of you!" Magnus grabbed a bottle by the neck. "Can you not even read? Fuck's sake, can you do... anything?!" 

"I can read fine!"

"Fine, what scotch'd I get." It was completely immature, the way Magnus was being. Murderface took the bottle. (Shit, he didn't know his scotch brands, either.) He might've been a little bit farsighted too, because bringing it closer to his face just made it look even more blurry. 

"...Jammie... Wanker."

"Johnnie Walker, for fuck's sake, can you seriously not read?"

"I-I can read! I juscht almoscht read that right there! Fuck you!"

"Alright, alright. Jeez, I always knew you were a dumbass, but I didn't know you couldn't read."

"I can! I..." He swallowed. "I have dyshleckshia."

"...So you can't read?"

"I can fucking read, I'm juscht not good at it!"

"I thought dyslexia meant you couldn't read."

"No!" Murderface's cheeks were red. "D-do you scheriouschly think I can't read?"

"Well, you are fucking stupid."

"I ain't schtupid! Schtop it!"

"You can't take care of yourself, you barely got out of high school, and even you whored yourself out for a full year before we met." Magnus pressed a finger to Murderface's lips as he paid for the liquor, expecting him to be quiet until they left. Luckily, the two were masters in the art of yell-whispering. "You sure are an enigma. A bulimic, dyslexic, wrist-slitting bassist."

"It ain't funny."

"Why don't you tell anyone this stuff?"

"They'll laugh."

"Would they laugh less if I told 'em?"

"Don't. Don't! I-I'm scheriousch."

"What? I'm sure they won't be that mad about having a bassist who can't read."

"I can read! Don't even joke about that!" Murderface hunched his shoulders over. "I-I mean, you wouldn't really tell 'em, would you?"

"I dunno. Maybe if I mentioned it... by accident!"

"Magnusch! It ain't funny!"

"I'm just teasing you. Learn to take a joke, you fucking pansy." Magnus slapped Murderface's back, sending the littler one teetering forward. "Why do you need to get so offended over this shit? I wouldn't tell them. Like, unless you pissed me off."

"Unlessch I--?"

"Then I'd have a reason to."

"I-I won't." Murderface swallowed. "I wouldn't make you angry. I love you."

Magnus scruffed his hair.

"'course you do, William. My little incompetent angel."

"Hey! Don't call me incompetent!"

"Alright, I'll only do it in my head."


End file.
